


Milo

by Snarky_Warden



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Pre-Blight, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarky_Warden/pseuds/Snarky_Warden
Summary: A teen romance shows Kallian that maybe marriage just isn't for her after all. Milo isn't her happily ever after, that's one thing she knows now.
Relationships: Female Tabris/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	Milo

The thin metal tools poked at the inner workings of the lock with only the faint tinkling sound of metal against metal. Kallian’s eyebrows drew closer together with focus. In theory, it sounded easy, but in practice, picking a lock was not a skill mastered in a single try. But with each success, her confidence grew as she learned to pick up the sound of the near silent click with pins falling into place.

Opposite her sat Milo, his brown eyes were intent on her. His entire attention focused on her hands, watching and waiting for the sound of the lock opening. He tucked a loose dark curl behind his pointed ear. 

Kallian wanted to kiss him. But not until she conquered this lockpicking thing once more. With a heavy click, it snapped open. 

She handed the opened lock back to Milo. “Turns out, not that hard.” 

One corner of his mouth turned up in approval. “Now, don’t be cocky, Kalli-girl. When you can pick a lock in under a minute then you’re talking.”

Kallian stuck her tongue out. Her stomach flipped when he used that nickname, and he knew it - given her pink cheeks and his rumbling laugh. Maker, she loved his laugh.

She snatched the lock back and snapped it shut. “Let me guess. You can?”

“What’s the point in working for a locksmith if I don’t pick up a few skills here and there,” he retorted.

“Funny,” she drawled as she dropped her set of picks and slid around to his side of the table. “You aren’t rushing to prove it.” She perched herself down on his lap.

His hands slid up her back and pulled her closer. Her heart raced for no other reason than the fact she was in his arms. And for the perfect shape of his cupid’s bow, and the dark liquid copper of his eyes. 

She kissed him and he kissed her back. Heat rose up along her skin and she pawed at his shirt, sliding hands up his chest. She softly moaned against his lips. 

“Get this sodding shirt off,” she whispered. 

He yanked it over his head, curly hair falling around his shoulders. He kissed her again, letting his hands roam her body, the curve of her ass and gripping around her waist. His thumbs stroked the undersides of her small breasts, suggesting more. 

Not for the first time she thanked the Maker that Milo’s mother worked so late.

“Come on Kalli, love, let’s take this to the bed,” he said warmly. Not the first time he’d suggested it. More than heavy petting and hours of kissing. 

The warmth pooling between her legs spoke for how much she wanted to give in. But a nervous apprehension pulled her back from the precipice. “ _ Not yet _ ,” she whispered. A kiss to his soft, plush lips. “You said you’d wait,” she reminded him. How her heart was racing, body hot, like her skin yearned for his touch. 

She pulled away slightly and swallowed. “Besides, you haven’t proven how good your lockpick skills are.”

“When are  _ you  _ going to tell me why you suddenly needed to learn,” he countered. 

His shirt was still off. Distracting, warm. Her hands lingered. “I was curious,” she allowed. 

“I just think it’s curious you haven’t asked me to teach you before. Considering how much you like to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Milo teased.

She couldn’t even pretend to be affronted. She had a habit of learning the secrets and gossip of the alienage - not that she spread it herself. But she liked to know what was happening and liked it even better when that information proved useful.

“You know the Bedard sisters?” she started. Milo nodded and she continued. “Heard their mum had to give up a silver locket to pay for rent. Old man Pratchett didn’t give a shit that it was their great grandmother’s.”

“Kallian, no.” Milo was already shaking his head. “Don’t start with this shit again.” 

She got off his lap, fixing him with a hard stare while he threw on his shirt. His back faced her but she could tell by the hunch of his shoulders he was angry. 

“Come on Milo, how many times are we gonna let Shems step all over us and never do anything back?” Kallian kicked the leg of the table. “You could help.”

He combed his fingers through his hair before turning around, hands on his hips. “Why do you have to get involved? You’re just asking for trouble. You’ll get caught and then what?” Milo sat back down with a sigh. “You at least getting paid?”

“Only in favours,” she responded curtly. “Someday I might be in shit, and it’s good to have some favours hanging around.”

“You wouldn’t need favours if you didn’t come up with these stupid plans,” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel,” she said dryly. 

“It’s already risky enough that you pilfer things from Miss Gilbert, and now this.”

“Come off it. Some extra thread and scraps of cloth here and there? She won’t miss those things. I thought you liked the silk handkerchief I gave you,” she reminded him.

Milo patted his pocket where she knew the embroidered purple cloth was folded. “I do, Kalli-girl.” He moved towards her, cupping her face to tilt it up those few inches to meet his eyes. “I just worry you’re about to cross a line. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Her hand covered his. “I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Milo countered.

She flinched away from his touch as if it had burned her. All thoughts of affection flew out the window. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Don’t be like that. You’ve always been impulsive. I just don’t think you’re thinking this through.”

“Then let me just  _ impulsively _ fucking leave,” she grumbled. “I can’t believe you!”

His door slammed and she stormed out across the muddy paths that wound their way through the rundown homes of the alienage. Mud splashed up on the hem of her dress as she stomped her way home. It was the rainy season. Mud clung to shoes and clothes alike. 

Kallian stopped at the Vhenadahl. A couple of drunks were leaned against it, drinking something foul enough to make her nose wrinkle at the sour smell. She paid them no mind and went around the other side of the tree, leaning against it. Going home didn’t hold much appeal either. She wanted to break something. 

Milo had pissed her off but not enough to stop her from following through. 

After a time, she did go home, and played the dutiful daughter. She helped her mother finish with supper and patiently told her family about her rather boring day stitching hems and making deliveries. 

At least she could let out some frustrations with some sparring.

Kallian huffed with the effort of dodging her mother’s blows and worked up a slight sweat. It felt good. She could feel how much better she was, the muscles in her shoulders that weren’t there a year ago. She grunted and aggressively knocked away Adaia’s left hand.

“Ouch!” her mother exclaimed, halting. She rotated her wrist. “Why do I get the feeling you’re angry at me?” She tilted her head, dark brown eyes narrowing. “Are you cross with me, Kallian? What’ve I done this time? Did I say the wrong thing about your hair today?”

Kallian’s look was withering. “You make it sound like I’m a wounded dog snapping at everyone who so much as looks at me,” she muttered.

Adaia sheathed her daggers and wrapped an arm around Kallian’s shoulders, pulling her in for a hug, rocking back and forth slightly. “No, not a dog, just a teenager.” 

They stayed like that until Kallian’s shoulders relaxed, the tension gone. Her mother’s fingers through her hair relaxing her.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.” 

Kallian took a deep breath, closing her eyes while her mother rubbed comforting circles on her back. 

“Milo’s an ass,” she said.

“Please tell me we don’t have to go hide a body,” Adaia sighed laboriously. 

Kallian giggled and pulled away. “Mum!”

She winked. “Made you laugh, though.”

“He just…” Kallian twisted her mouth to one side. She didn’t want to say why they fought, but she wanted her mother’s opinions. “He’s so overprotective, like, like I can’t handle my own life.”

“Mmm, Kallian,” Adaia wrapped her arms tighter. “Sounds like he cares very much. It’s how people like your father...and Milo... show they love you, yeah?”

If it was love, how come it made her feel so inept and incapable. “But  _ you _ don’t do that. When dad said I shouldn’t learn how to fight you made him change his mind.”

That was when her mum let go and spun around to face her. She gently held Kallian’s chin in hand. “Because you are  _ my _ daughter. And no daughter of mine will ever be helpless or dependent on anyone else.”

“Tell that to Milo…”

“Tell him yourself.” Adaia winked. “He will have no choice but to learn. Or deal with your wrath…” She rubbed her wrist where Kallian had struck it. Kallian opened her mouth to apologize, but her mother stopped her. “No it’s fine. It was a good strike. But how about we call it a night anyway, yeah?”

Kallian nodded.

She went to bed with her mind set. Confidence in herself, and a bit of sadistic glee in imagining the many ways she might tell Milo off. Particularly once her plan went just fine and she could throw that in his face too.

* * *

Milo thought she was impulsive, and she definitely could be. But Kallian wasn’t a fool. Before even asking him to help her with lockpicking, she had done her damn research to find out when she might have a window of opportunity.

That window turned out to be a weekly trip down to the gambling house. 

Picks in pocket, Kallian left her house under the guise of visiting Milo. She was over there several times a week anyway. It was more private at his apartment than her place, after all.

It was not yet so late that she would be breaking curfew either. Enough time to hurry to the landlord’s house and be back before the sun had completely set. 

She detoured down towards the building that Milo lived in, just in case anyone saw her they could confirm she had been heading to visit him. The alienage was home to many gossips and she knew well enough to avoid them when she could. 

Looping back around through another alley, she snuck out toward the gates.

“Kallian.”

Her stomach dropped and she froze. How in the- “What are you-?” She turned around trying to come up with an excuse to her father. And there was Milo standing beside him.

He told her father. He fucking  _ tattletaled _ .

“The better question is what do you think  _ you _ are doing, young lady. I know I didn’t raise you to go sneaking about like some common thief.”

Her chest squeezed tight with the sting of betrayal. She glared at Milo, and instead of the sparkle of warmth she always felt in his eyes, she saw disappointment. Like she was a child who needed scolding. Scolding she would only get from her own father. 

“You told him?” she shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Milo?”

“I knew you wouldn’t listen to me, and I had to stop you from making a huge mistake,” he placated. “He was glad I told him. How would Cyrion have felt if you were arrested?”

Kallian’s lips turned up in disgust. “Don’t start acting all noble.”

“Noble? I’m protecting you! Can’t you see it’s because I love you? I didn’t want anything to happen to you, Kalli.”

A feral shriek ripped from Kallian’s throat. “You son of a b-”

“He did the right thing,” Cyrion interjected, stepping between both of them. He turned to Milo, gave him a pat on the back. “You know her temper, head on home. I’ll take this from here, son.”

That look of… of ownership. Like he had a right to say what she could or could not do. Breathing hurt; it hurt so much she wanted to cry. She  _ was _ crying. Hot tears, and heart pounding. She wanted to scream, to pull out her own hair. 

“We’re going home,” Cyrion said firmly.

Kallian wrenched her arm from her father. “I’m not going anywhere. And stop looking at him like he’s the bloody Maker himself. I trusted him and he went behind my back!”

His mouth turned into a straight line. “To make sure you didn’t get  _ hurt _ . He’s good for you, Kallian. The kind of lad who would make a good husband someday.”

Her mouth clamped shut. Struck dumb. Her anger meant nothing? Her broken trust meant nothing? “Husband?” the strangled question was all she could get out before her throat closed up. 

“Well, not right away of course. Wait at least a couple years to make sure it’s a good match. But first we’ll need to decide how long you’re grounded,” he placed a palm on her lower back, none too gently guiding her back up the road. “Home. Now.”

Numbly, Kallian followed along. Did Milo use this to get into Cyrion’s good books? He… wouldn’t do that. Would he?

For all that she had started to imagine it, the dress and flowers and maybe even spending her life with Milo… Marriage sounded like nothing more than a cage to trap her in now. The last thing Kallian ever wanted to feel was caged.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to kudos/comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


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